


Variable Geometries

by weakinteraction



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, First Time, Pre-Canon, Slightly Awkward Sex, Starfleet Academy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-24 01:32:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8351089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weakinteraction/pseuds/weakinteraction
Summary: Two outsiders at the Academy find each other.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [olio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/olio/gifts).



Ro stood just beyond the sensor range of the large double doors into the gymnasium, still unsure whether she should go through them. She tried to steel herself for what would happen if she did: the familiar sight of every head turning her way, the whispered conversations that she didn't need to hear to know what was being said. "There she is." "Is that her?" "The Bajoran." After a month at the Academy, she was more than familiar with her fellow cadets' feelings about her presence amongst them.

The majority treated her with pity that they didn't seem to realise bordered on condescension, usually accompanied with a great deal of hand-wringing about how terrible it was that the Federation couldn't do more for the people still stuck in the camps. Ro's response to this was generally to ask if they thought that every Bajoran in the quadrant would want to sign up at the Academy if there were sufficient places. Sometimes she followed this up by saying that she had dreamed of flying between the stars since before anyone had ever told her it was possible; her compatriots dreamed only of being able to return home to a free planet.

Then there were the ones who actively sought her out to congratulate her on striking a blow against Cardassian oppression. When Ro demurred that she wasn't a freedom fighter, they tended to bluster about how they hoped to graduate before "the action" was over, even though even Ro could see that the Federation's war with the Cardassians was most definitely petering out into at least a mutually recognised stalemate. That was when she tended to snap at them that they knew nothing of the realities of war, and had probably never suffered anything more in their lives than the mild inconvenience of a temporarily malfunctioning replicator.

The smallest minority -- albeit the ones who were the most forthright in expressing their opinions -- were convinced that a huge error had been made in admitting her in the first place. At best, it had shown a shocking lack of understanding of the galacto-political ramifications, at worst it was a deliberate attempt to provoke the Cardassians. Nothing against her personally, of course; in almost any other circumstances they'd be delighted to have her there. Depending on Ro's mood, she would either suggest that it was quite personal to imply that the quadrant would be better off if she had never applied, or ask why _they_ were there, when they clearly knew much better than those they were learning from.

Ro didn't exactly have a lot of friends at the Academy so far. Which was why Lieutenant Commander Jarok, her personal tutor, had suggested -- it wasn't _quite_ an order, at least not yet -- that it would be logical for her to get involved in one or more of the self-organised student societies. And so here she was, waiting to go in to an _ari-zhiana_ class. She had learned some of the basics from a Trill volunteer in the camp she had been in between twelve and fourteen and had always wanted to know more.

And in the end, it was this or the Klingon Opera Appreciation Society. Ro stepped forward and through the doors as they parted automatically.

The session inside was already underway. Ro felt guilty that her indecision had made her late, but at least it meant that the rest of the class were already deeply involved in their warm-up exercises. The disciplines of _ari-zhiana_ emphasised being conscious of proprioceptive inputs, something to do with joining. The Trill Ro had met had been unjoined, and quite adamant about wanting to stay that way, but it was clear their culture enshrined it as a generalised aspiration.

There were cadets from across all years of the Academy here, a few she knew but many she didn't. She had expected that to mean that it would be like her first few days here all over again. But instead she had, for the first time, a sense of anonymity that she found herself glad of. She took up a position on an empty mat at the far end and glanced around her to pick up where they had got to in the preliminary forms.

A few minutes later, one of the three cadets leading the session made her way over to her. She was human, with short blonde hair and an athletic build. Her vest was embroidered with the dodecahedron, denoting that she had reached the second highest level of _ari-zhiana_ accessible to the unjoined.

"You're new," she observed as Ro lifted her arms together.

"Does it show that badly?" Ro said.

"Not at all," the woman said. "I was trying to welcome you to the group. I'm Tasha. Tasha Yar."

"Ro Laren," Ro said as she crouched down into the next pose. "But I'm guessing you already knew that."

The woman gave her an appraising look. "Well, it's good to meet you, Cadet Ro. I hope you enjoy the session," she said, before moving on to the next person in line.

A little while later, when it was time to start sparring, Tasha reappeared. "By this stage in the semester, everyone's assigned to groups so that they can spar against other people who are at an appropriate level."

"But you don't know what to do with me," Ro said. "Can't say I'm not used to that by now."

"I'll spar with you tonight," Yar said. "That should give us an idea."

And so they fought. Ro held her own but she knew that Yar had been pulling her punches.

"You're good," Yar said. "Your _hagadi_ is a little sloppy, but you're good."

"A little sloppy?" Ro said. "You want to go again? I'll show you a little sloppy."

Yar smiled dangerously, and dropped into the ready stance without another word.

Less than two minutes later, Ro was on her back with Yar on top of her. Both of them were breathing hard, and Ro knew herself well enough to realise that on her part at least it wasn't all because of the exercise. She looked into Yar's eyes, thought she saw something mirroring her own experience there, but couldn't be sure.

With some reluctance, Ro spread her palms to show that she yielded. Yar climbed off and gave her a hand up. "Like I said, sloppy. But definitely the sort of thing we can work on. You'll come back next week?" The smile on her face seemed genuine.

Ro smiled back, realising that it was the first time she had done so in some time. "Count on it."

* * *

Ro did indeed return to the class the next week, having spent more of the intervening time than she was willing to admit even to herself in anticipating doing so. She had even thanked Jarok for his advice during their one-on-one session; his unflappable demeanour made it hard to be sure, but she thought that she might have surprised him with that.

When she arrived, Tasha -- Cadet Yar, she reminded herself sternly -- greeted her enthusiastically and took her to meet the group she had decided, following their bout, would be on the right level for Ro to train with. Ro exchanged brief pleasantries with each of the eight, even managing to be polite to Cadet de Vries, the only other freshman amongst them. After that, however, Ro was disappointed to learn that Tasha would be working primarily with one of the other groups. One of the other cadets on the committee running the society would be keeping an eye on Ro's group, which she quickly realised was at an intermediate level, a slightly uncomfortable mix of relatively mediocre people who were unlikely to progress much further, and people with potential who needed to hone their talent. Ro hoped fervently that Tasha saw her as amongst the latter category.

At least Tasha hadn't thought she was an absolute beginner. At one point between bouts Ro thought she saw her looking in her direction, but if she was she looked away as soon as Ro noticed. Ro, on the other hand, watched Tasha in action whenever the opportunity presented itself. Seeing the way she moved seamlessly between the forms, turning blocks and parries into counterattacks, weaving around her opponents so fast that she seemed almost to envelop them like a mist, made Ro jealous of her skill and the ease with which she displayed it. It was also, if she was honest with herself, distractingly arousing.

Her experience the next week was similar. Ro began to wonder if she hadn't read altogether too much into her first encounter with Tasha, scolded herself for getting carried away with a momentary infatuation.

But in the fourth week, Tasha was leading their group. Ro forced herself to concentrate on the content of what she was saying to them instead of her voice, to pay attention to the positions she was putting Ro into when they began to work on some of the higher forms, rather than what it felt like to have her in such close proximity, stood directly behind her, guiding her arms and legs into the correct stance.

The experience was in equal parts thrilling and disappointing, since Tasha did not display anything except perfect decorum throughout. That was only to be expected from a member of Starfleet Academy, Ro supposed, but it left her just as uncertain as she had ever been whether her feelings had any chance of being requited, even as those feelings intensified considerably.

Ro's heart skipped a beat, then, when Tasha pulled her aside at the end of the session and asked if she wanted some one-on-one tuition. She agreed readily, and they fixed a time early on Friday evening. Ro was still getting used to human timekeeping, the strange names of the days based on ancient gods who they freely admitted probably didn't exist, the two hours too few in each day, but soon enough she had worked out exactly how long she would have to wait to see her again.

Ro spent that time distracted by trying to analyse every aspect of the brief conversations they had had. Was Tasha asking her out on a date, or was Cadet Yar simply trying to encourage a promising first year? Maybe all she saw in Ro was someone who might help take over the running of the society when she and her fellow committee members graduated.

But at the same time, Ro berated herself for letting herself get so caught up in her emotions. Her life so far, on occupied Bajor itself or in the camps, had taught her many difficult lessons about life, but had left her unprepared for what she was now experiencing: you had to be wary of everyone else, anyone who showed kindness probably already knew what they wanted from you in return, even the Vedeks who were always secretly or not-so-secretly angling for people to attend their makeshift temples to the Prophets who had abandoned them. She knew from the old books she had read -- when she'd been able to get hold of a working padd -- that the Bajorans of the past had prided themselves on being a passionate people, in every respect. But now that was burned away, the only passion that mattered the rage that drove the resistance, while the rest of her people scrambled to survive however they could. Which all led to the worst feeling of all, that indulging a silly crush like this was letting Starfleet soften her.

* * *

They met in an out-of-the-way corner of the Academy grounds; Ro was early, Tasha punctual almost to the second. They spent an intensive hour working on the form Tasha had showed her earlier in the week. She wondered if Tasha knew the effect that being so close to her, encouraging her to be aware of all her own sensations, was having on what those sensations were. Then they sparred; Ro managed to get the better of Tasha a few times, but in the end she knew she was outclassed. It became clear that on their first meeting, Tasha had been holding back. Now, the technique that Ro had been admiring from afar was in full effect, and for all that seeing it up close was even more impressive, it was also devastating.

"You're good, but you need to work on your aggression," Tasha said when they finished.

"I get that a lot," Ro said, a hint of challenge in her voice.

"Don't get me wrong. Aggression can be good. Any emotion can be turned into a positive. It's how you channel it, how you focus it."

Ro felt a stab of disappointment at hearing Tasha resorting to the sort of bland pabulum Starfleet officers so often seemed to spout. "I get people suggesting I should go to a counsellor a lot, too," she said, trying to keep the edge out of her voice.

"It helped me," Tasha said matter-of-factly. "But I mean it. You could be very good. Very good indeed. But when I start to get through your defences, you react by attacking even more. Which just leaves you more vulnerable. Feel your aggression, but don't let it control you."

"Right," Ro said, remembering something she had learned back in the camps. "Let it flow through me."

Ro was gratified that Tasha looked impressed. "That's right. Look, Laren, in _ari-zhiana_ , being aware of your mental state is just as important as being aware of your physical state." For a moment, Ro felt butterflies in her stomach at Tasha's use of her given name -- it wasn't a mistake, she was sure, as it so often was when she heard it here on Earth; Tasha had always been meticulous about addressing her properly up until now. "I've been where you are, I know how it feels. To have so much locked up inside ... it's understandable, but it isn't healthy."

"And what would you know about it?" Ro found herself saying.

Tasha looked at her directly, challengingly. "Because I'm a human, you mean."

Ro nodded, even though a large part of her already wished she had never said anything. Her awareness of her own mental state definitely hadn't been at a peak just then.

"Not every colony succeeds," Tasha said eventually. "Human worlds aren't all utopian paradises with cupcakes in every replicator and rainbows on demand from the weather control grid."

Ro was floored. "I'm sorry," she said. "I had no idea." She shook her head. "But can't Starfleet ..."

"Can any outside organisation truly fix the politics, the culture of an entire world? Even if the gangs that ran the place hadn't all but declared war on the Federation, any lasting change has to come from within."

"It can't be as simple as that. You're here, after all."

"So are you," Tasha said. "I got out, and it was thanks to Starfleet. But I was lucky, very lucky. I know that." Tasha had a faraway look for a moment, as though remembering someone who hadn't been so fortunate. "You were lucky too, and I think you know that, deep down, even if you don't want to admit it to yourself. I mean, look around you." Ro did so, reluctantly; the sun was setting by now, myriad reflections sparkling from the crest of each wave in the bay, every cable of the antique suspension bridge across it, and every window of Starfleet Headquarters on the other side. "Only a few hundred years ago, this world was recovering from over a century of devastating wars, culminating in--"

"The use of nuclear weapons," Ro said. She smiled apologetically. "Somehow this stuff does make it into the compulsory Federation History 101 course."

"But look at what's happened since," Tasha said. "Things change, things get better."

They stood silently for a moment, admiring the view. Ro became aware of Tasha's eyes on her. Watching for her reaction, perhaps. But when she turned slightly to look at her, Tasha's gaze went back to the bridge. It was just the same as a few weeks ago at the _ari-zhiana_ class.

"Beautiful," Tasha said eventually.

"Yes," Ro said, "beautiful."

She had the feeling that neither of them was entirely sure what they were talking about any more.

* * *

They began training together more frequently. Not only the extra _ari-zhiana_ lessons, although by the end of the semester Ro had moved up to the next group, but Ro joined Tasha on her frequent runs. To her mild surprise, she discovered that Tasha, with no family to visit on Earth, used her personal transporter resource allocation to visit cities around the world, running various famous routes. Having no better use for them herself, Ro accepted Tasha's invitation to join her.

Tasha explained that part of her motivation was to learn more about Earth history, to try to feel some sort of connection with the homeworld of her ancestors. It was an odd way to do it, and what Ro really couldn't get over was how recent it all was. It barely felt like history at all; even the oldest sites they visited paled in comparison to the millennia-long legacy of Bajoran culture. She refrained from saying as much to Tasha. But she constantly had to remind herself that her people had been in space when the humans had still been in caves, and yet it was here she had to come if she wanted to follow her own ancestors' path.

One thing she did learn was that an awful lot of places on Earth seemed to have reputations for being romantic. Or maybe Tasha was taking her to such places deliberately. But if she was, then that was as far as she seemed willing to go; their relationship continued in the same liminal, ambiguous status it had had since the beginning. Sometimes Ro lay awake, wondering if it was possible that she had misinterpreted everything. And yet, when she was with Tasha, everything about the way she acted towards her gave her renewed hope. Everything except any sort of explicit confirmation of her feelings.

As the winter break approached and most of their fellow cadets prepared to head back to their families, Ro realised that they would most likely be seeing even more of each other once there was no one else around. She decided that they couldn't carry on like this all through the vacation; it was time to take the kulloth by the tusks.

And so it was that in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower, in between gasping breaths while recovering from a punishing ten kilometre run, Ro blurted out about as unromantically as it was possible to do so, "Tasha, are we dating?"

Tasha looked startled -- one expression Ro had never seen on her face before, and a very cute one at that -- and then pleased. "Do you want us to be?" she said eventually, looking at Ro levelly.

Ro laughed. "Yes!"

"Well, then ... yes," Tasha said. "At least, I think we are."

"I think we may have been for some time," Ro replied with a smile.

"On the other hand, there are quite a few things that traditionally go along with dating that we haven't done."

"Oh yes? What did you have in mind?"

And that was when Tasha kissed her. It was everything Ro had spent months imagining, and more; Tasha's lips were soft and warm, but her hands on her waist were firm and the beat of her heart as their chests touched was strong. Ro kissed Tasha back; as they continued, she began to sense something of what the Vedeks meant when they talked about time standing still for the Prophets, but this was so much more real than anything they could offer; real and present and now and _hers_ in a way that she hadn't even realised she needed.

Eventually, they broke for air.

"OK," Ro said. "Definitely dating."

They headed for the transporter booth with their arms wrapped around one another's waists, talking and laughing; it felt simultaneously to Ro like the most natural thing in the world and something she couldn't believe was actually happening.

* * *

The final few days of the semester passed in a blur; Ro spent every spare minute with Tasha.  They had talked before, but always with a certain wariness, a certain reserve.  Now all the things that had been left unsaid could be said, but there was still space for being silent together.  When she stopped to think about it, Ro felt almost alarmed by such uncomplicated happiness.  Part of her knew that there would be challenges ahead; if nothing else, Tasha would graduate two years ahead of her, and probably get the deep space assignment she dreamt of.  But that was a long way off.

Then the winter break came, and the campus became a ghost town.  Tasha had experienced this many times before, of course; it turned out that she had technically spent three years as a freshman, the first two of them taking make-up courses in everything that life on a world with no government -- and therefore no education system to speak of -- had failed to teach her.  She had told Ro that there were always a few other cadets around -- a few others in similar situations to theirs, some whose homeworlds were so far away that they couldn't reasonably reach them and return in time for the next semester -- and that with the constraints of term time gone, things became more relaxed.  She was right; even a few of the other freshmen who had viewed Ro with suspicion became friendlier.

A lot of human traditions around this time of year seemed to have something to do with light; natural enough, Ro supposed, given their planet's absurdly exaggerated axial tilt.  They had decided that they ought to have a celebration of their own; although none of the human traditions were actively celebrated any more, Ro had decorated her quarters with a number of different replicated artefacts, most of which she didn't really understand, but all of which emitted some form of light.  With her roommate gone, it was a pleasant change to be able to invite Tasha over, rather than visit her.

And, if she was interpreting the conversation they had had about tonight correctly, there would be more to celebrate than simply some archaic human traditions that neither of them really understood.  Ro fussed with the food laid out on the small table one more time.  Tasha would be here any minute.  "Computer, dim lights," she said.  The objects scattered around the room stood out strongly against the darker background.  " _All_ the lights," Ro added, and the effect became more muted.

Tasha arrived punctually as always, wearing an outfit quite unlike anything Ro had ever seen her in: an elegant dress that dropped almost completely vertically from her shoulders to her ankles, leaving her arms bare. Ro herself had opted for a slightly smarter version of her usual off-duty clothes, a simple tunic and trousers.

"I feel underdressed," was the first thing Ro said once they had greeted one another with a kiss.

"Oh! I mean, I can change, if you think it's too much."

"Not at all," Ro said. "You look fabulous."

"I'm really not used to wearing this sort of thing," Tasha said. "It feels strange."

"Well, you should change," Ro said. "If _you_ think it's too much."

"I can hardly do that now that you've said that I look 'fabulous', can I?"

They sat down to eat, making nervous small talk about the other students still around on campus, comparing notes about the food -- Ro was distinctly uncertain that the festive dishes she had recalled from the replicators' memory bank really went together, but Tasha was at least polite about it -- and discussing the coming semester. Ro would be facing her first simulator exercise in a few weeks' time.

"It's not like they still use the Kobayashi Maru," Tasha said, clearly attempting to be encouraging. "And anyway, you're only a first year."

Ro barked a slightly bitter laugh. "I'd be fine with the Kobayashi Maru," she said. "I know plenty about no-win scenarios."

"They say it will all be holograms soon, not just the displays. The recent breakthroughs in fine control of forcefields to provide haptic feedback--"

"I'll believe that when I see it," Ro said. "I know exactly what I'd do," she went on. Tasha looked at her, slightly confused. "In the Kobayashi Maru scenario, I mean."

"They outlawed reprogramming the computer after--"

"I know, I know, but listen." Ro outlined the plan she had spent rather longer than she should have done devising, given that the scenario really wasn't in use any more. In this at least she had a lot in common with her fellow students. Her version involved some very "creative" use of warp field geometry to stall the enemy ships' engines and extend the range of the transporters, and still ended up with everyone in escape pods waiting for rescue when the strain on the core became too much as a result.

"Everyone would survive," Tasha admitted. "But I don't know that it would count as a win."

"Surviving is winning," Ro said seriously. "We both know that."

Tasha shook her head. "One of these days you're either going to get a medal or a court martial," she said. "Maybe both."

"If they ever even let me graduate. I don't know why they make pilots go on the command track anyway," Ro said. "I just want to fly the ships, not decide where they're going to go."

"Oh, right, because you fit right into a hierarchy," Tasha said.

Ro gave her a look. "Sorry, Cadet Yar," she said playfully, but Tasha didn't respond with anything except a brief glare.

The whole conversation was like this: the anticipation of what might happen later -- no, what they both intended to happen later, Ro was confident of that -- sneaking in to other topics but never quite leading naturally to where Ro wished it would, and sometimes even seeming to cause momentary offence. She began to worry that the same lack of experience with relationships that meant it had taken them so long to actually admit their feelings for each other would send them both back to their own bunks at the end of the evening, alone and frustrated, that they both had a few too many unrounded edges to ever get anywhere.

But at the end of the meal, as they watched the remains of the meal dematerialise back into the replicator's feedstock, Tasha pulled Ro in towards her and kissed her passionately. Ro returned the kiss with equal intensity and stumbled backwards, pulling Tasha with her towards her bunk.

They ended with Tasha lying on top of her, just as they had the first time they had sparred in the _ari-zhiana_ class. Ro felt as though it was an echo of everything she had experienced then, amplified a thousand times, by the confidence that she wasn't just imagining something, by the anticipation of what was to come. Tasha smiled down at her, and she smiled back.

Then Tasha bent down to kiss her, first on the mouth and then down her neck. It was slow and deliberate, almost tentative. Somehow whenever Ro had imagined this moment -- and she had done so many, many times -- Tasha had been purposeful, determined, just the right kind of forceful. She had imagined them both being overcome by the desperation she was sure they both felt.

But Tasha continued in her measured, controlled way, kissing her way across Ro's collar bone, before going back up her neck to suck on her ear.

Ro twisted away. As she did so, it seemed as though Tasha deflated on top of her. "Did I do something wrong?" she asked, her voice a mixture of concerned and hurt.

"Sorry," Ro said. "It's not you, honestly. It's just ..."

"Just what?"

"In the Bajoran religion, feeling your ear is a way for someone to access your _pagh_."

" _Pagh_?"

"I suppose the best translation would be 'life force' but that doesn't really explain it properly."

"Is that something to do with your earring?" Tasha asked.

"It's ... related. But it's complicated." Ro tried to lighten the mood. "You know, you didn't come here to listen to a comparative religion lecture.  And I certainly didn't invite you over here to deliver one."

Tasha smiled.  "I'm sorry if I did something ... sacred, or taboo, or ..."

Ro laughed. "It's not that," she said. "It's not like I been believe any of that stuff." She shrugged. "It just reminds me of a lifetime of having my ear grabbed by any passing Vedek who wanted to try and work out why I wasn't interested in what they were trying to sell."

Tasha nodded. "OK, no ears," she said.

"I'm sorry," Ro said. "I didn't want to ruin the mood." To prove it, she leaned upwards and kissed Tasha again. Emboldened by the way Tasha moaned into her lips, she put her hands on Tasha's waist and manoeuvred them into a side-by-side position. Now that she could access the fastener at the back of Tasha's dress, she tugged at it until it parted. Tasha tried to wriggle out of it even as she fumbled with Ro's own clothes. They ended up in an ungainly half-undressed tangle.

Tasha extricated herself. "Let's just ..." She sat up to remove her bra, then stood up so that she could kick off the dress and remove her panties. While she did so, Ro struggled out of her own clothing.

They looked at each other, an unspoken moment of _This is really happening_ passing between them.

Ro was about to tell Tasha that she looked even better naked than she had in the dress when Tasha climbed back into the bed and communicated much the same sentiment with the way she kissed Ro.

This time, Ro ended up on top of Tasha. She was reassured that some aspects of her imagined versions of this encounter: Tasha's body under her hands was exactly what she had expected: the firmness of her taut muscles contrasted with the softness of her breasts and -- Tasha gasped and arched her back -- her mound. Emboldened at the way she responded, Ro's fingers explored further downwards and she leant down to kiss her breast.

"Laren," Tasha said urgently.

She looked up. "Too much?"

"No!" Tasha said. "Except... Well, what about you?"

"I'm having a great time," Ro said.

"Good," Tasha said. "But what I mean is--"

"I know what you mean. We can take turns, if that's what you're worried about."

"I'm not sure I'll be able to do anything by the time you're finished."

"Nonsense," Ro said. "If there's one thing I've learned about you, it's that you've got a hell of a lot of stamina."

"You've got me there," Tasha said as Ro ducked her head back down again. "Oh, and there," she added as Ro slid her hand further downwards.

Ro sucked lightly on the underside of Tasha's breast before she began kissing her way down her torso, enjoying once again the firmness of her muscles.

"Oh, fuck, Laren," Tasha said as Ro's mouth approached her mound.

Ro looked up for a moment. "That's the general idea," she said, before finally taking up a position between Tasha's legs. The small and taste of her was intoxicating as she began to lick her clit. She began by reproducing the sort of back and forth motions she knew worked for her when she stroked herself with her fingers, but encouraged by the way Tasha moaned when her tongue slipped slightly in her excitement, began instead to trace wider circular and spiral paths across Tasha's mound, occasionally reverting to her original focus on her clit.

All too soon from her point of view, Ro felt Tasha spasming around her, her legs gripping the sides of her head and her back arching. She carried on licking until Tasha finally said, between gasps, "That _is_ too much."

Ro crawled back up the bed, ending up nestling her head against Tasha's neck. "That was amazing."

"Shouldn't I be saying that?"

"Seriously," Ro said. "I never imagined it feeling as intense as that."

"We're not done yet," Tasha said. She rolled Ro onto her back and lay on top of her. They kissed once more as Tasha's hand headed straight for Ro's pussy. Despite being aware of how aroused she was, even Ro was surprised by quite how easily Tasha's finger -- no, fingers, two of them -- slid inside her before curling upwards to find her G-spot.

Ro gasped. "Fuck me," she said.

Tasha kissed her again. "What was it you said? That is the general idea."

And then it was happening: Tasha was fucking her, the ball of her hand pressed against her clit as she slid her fingers back and forth inside her. Now, finally, was the desperation Ro had expected from Tasha, but to her delight it was entirely focused on her. She felt as though Tasha was all around her as well as inside her, the sum total of the sensations overwhelming all possibility of rational thought.

Tasha leaned in towards her ear, but avoided kissing it.  "Focus on your sensations, what your body is telling you," she said as she slid her fingers in and out, faster and faster.

Ro tried to giggle but it came out as more of a groan. "Believe me, I am," she said. "That's incredible." She arched her back upwards so that she could look Tasha in the eye. " _You're_ incredible."

Tasha smiled at her as she carried on finger fucking her, then levered herself up the bed to kiss Ro once again. The combination of feeling her lover's lips once more and the extra pressure on her mound was enough to send Ro over the edge and she groaned loudly into Tasha's mouth as she came.

Tasha slid off her to one side, pulling her close as a wave of aftershocks wracked her body. Finally, Ro collapsed completely into her arms and drifted into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
